Sewing with Kids

Sewing is a passion of mine. I love perusing stores, ogling beautiful fabric and imagining fantastic creations coming to life under the foot of my machine. I love making things for pennies what costs dollars in the stores. My kids watch me sew. Much of what I make is for them so they have a vested interest in my creations.

But they don't like to sit idly by while I get to play with all the cool fabrics and gadgets. They want to create, too. We've done one sewing lesson a few months back which was a huge success. The pillows are still in use. They ask me continuously when we're going to have another lesson but time just hasn't allowed for it.

When we went to the fair earlier in the year, the kids each won a fairly large stuffed toy. I hate these things. They're made of scratchy, cheap fabric filled with those little styrafoam balls. They take up about 6 square feet of my tiny house and make a terrible crunching sound when they're hugged. It makes my skin crawl like nails on a chalkboard.

So, when they ripped I left them on my sewing desk. I gave the kids excuses about how busy I am and how it prevents me from fixing these holes in their beloved toys. I had hopes that I could secretly toss them out when they weren't paying attention and they'd never realize it. Yes, sometimes I employ subterfuge. Unfortunately, I was thwarted. They incessantly asked me when I'd get to fixing their toys so they could resume loving them to tiny pieces. I finally got sick of it today.

I made up a little sewing kit for the kids that I had intended to introduce them to when they were "old enough". But with our new ideas of unschooling, their requests for repair turned into teaching.

I've found that telling a child they cannot touch something because it is dangerous only fuels curiosity. Not to say that certain dangers shouldn't be avoided but sometimes education when they are interested helps build respect. I've found this true with sewing. Telling my three and five year olds "NO!" that pins will hurt and poke them has tiny fingers itching to grasp those shiny little pearls that stick out of my stuffed pumpkin. Showing them what they are used for, giving them the opportunity to use them curbs desires and forms respect. Pins are tools, not toys.

We discussed the parts of a needle, how fabric was woven and the importance of working to fix things we own instead of wastefully discarding them.

They learned how thread and needle come together to mend and create.

They worked for what they wanted instead of pushing it off on me.

They grew in confidence while they concentrated.

And were delighted that their hands made results that impacted their own lives.

Cordelia's fair toy didn't have a seam to mend so I introduced her to a stitch ripper. She was so proud when she finished as she was aiding me with my projects. And I was proud of each of them.

Sometimes, I forget how talented and "old enough" my kids are. Sometimes, the easier way of doing it myself or not doing it at all takes away the opportunity to involve the kids in our whole lives.

A New Spin

This is the start of a bobbin of Merino (sheep) wool and some gray/white Angora (rabbit) wool yarn. It's a bit overspun, adding in the loose Angora while spinning the Merino roving has a high learning curve. I'm not even sure if that's how you're supposed to do it. But I really like the results and this is only a single ply.

I've been spinning for almost a month. I think I'm fairly decent at it for a beginner. Since our land is only 5 acres and part of that will be needed to help sustain us, we need a product we can sell to cover those things we can't do ourselves. Enter in: Fiber.

Last December we started with one Angora. Now, we have three. We're hoping the farm will be able to support a small flock of sheep, herd of goats and a dairy cow. This Merino I'm spinning is so nice. Having a few of these sheep would be magnificent.

I'm hoping to take a class at the local knitting store to teach me -finally- how to knit properly. I already have a cozy, cream colored hat in my imagination made from my first spinnings.

My only issue now is not wanting to part with anything.

The fibers, the yarn; I love it all.

Rejection

All night my mind was turbulent with thoughts. Feelings errupted as I let my conciousness work through the happenings of the evening and my responses to them. I lost much sleep.

We did a two hour test run with a new sitter while I dropped off my car at the transmission place and grabbed some groceries.

We got home to her almost reduced to tears and a firm "no" that she couldn't handle watching the kids again. My first response was disappointment. I was upset that my kids upset her, though she assured me it wasn't because they were bad. Just loud, boisterours and oh, so numerous. I apologized profusely and hope that our adult relationship wasn't harmed by it.

Then I went inside and scolded the kids about not being able to follow her rules of sitting quietly while she did story time. And for being loud. And for interrupting. And for not sitting still. I unleashed my disappointment and anger and sent them to bed. I reduced them to tears.

I thought about these two reactions most of the night. I am not happy with my parenting. At first, I was angry that I lost a potential babysitter when my school work is coming down to a tight wire of completion. I was bitter and resentful that someone didn't instantly like my kids and want to get paid to spend time with them. I was angry that someone else couldn't do my job. Then, I turned my anger towards the kids. Why couldn't they just behave for two measley hours? I stood in the shower absently washing my hair disappointed and angry at the situation but not exactly sure where the blame lay.

It wasn't until about two a.m. when I brought Max into our bed for the remainder of the night that things clicked together. I lay in the darkness snuggling baby and realized that there is no one to blame. My anger had no place or position in the situation at all. Then, I got angry at myself.

I was angry that I felt the need to apologize for my kids, just for being themselves. Read this again: I was sorry my kids acted the way I strive to raise them. What is wrong with me? I want them to be inquisitive. I want them to ask questions. I want them to follow what interests them when the interest strikes. They are energetic and alive. They are busy, the little ones climb, Alex literally can not sit still. It takes work to keep them out of the trouble their exploring nature gets into when it's confiened to the house.

When a new person comes to our home they are like a bug under a microscope. My kids want to know why, how, what, and who they are. They want to share every facet themselves with this new facinating person. They instantly give their love to whomever mommy or daddy has designated a worthy person for them to meet. They don't expect love in return, they give it freely without strings or manipulations. They thrive on touch, expression and honesty.

Why, dear God, would I apologize for that?

I was angry at myself for being disappointed in my kids and dumping my emotions on their fragile hearts. They were being their authentic selves and because someone rejected that I was angry at them. Yes, they're loud. There are five of them in a very tiny space. I don't really discourage their volume unless I'm on the phone or someone is napping. They have big emotions inside little bodies and very strong vocal cords. They express themselves true. If the mood strikes them to sing, they sing. They pour their every feeling into belting out the songs in their hearts. If it happens to be story time, well, perhaps it could benefit from an improv sonnet. If they want to dance, if their bodies thrum with unheard rhythm, then their legs carry them hither and tither and they want to share it with you. It's not their fault that their recital falls on your imposed quiet time.

There is a reason we are in the family we are. We are meant to be together. Always. When a new person comes in with their own expectations and requirements for what is acceptable and those things don't align with our family principles THAT'S OKAY. It is NOT rejection. It's nature's way of ensuring the people that are in my and my children's lives, are the right people for the job. It is no one's fault, no ones, when we find incompatable people. It's why we usually don't marry the first person we meet. It's why we change jobs, cities, cars. I've heard when people adopt that they just know this child was meant to be theirs. It doesn't mean there was anything wrong with the people that are left behind, they're just not right for us. 

I want to assure my readers I did not send my kids to bed crying. We spent a good hour talking quietly and gently about how we all feel and what happened and why. I apologized to them both in words and touch. We snuggled and healed the damage my overreacting caused. Today, we're going to work together again. I am going to strive to include my kids in decisions we make. Perhaps, a sitter isn't the solution. I have some time to figure it out. See if we want to try someone else or work to make my school time possible at home. 

They're my kids, my family. I'm not ashamed, disappointed or embarassed to be their mom. And I love everything single little thing about them. Even that they can take down an adult.